


Controlled Burn

by Capercaillie



Series: Confessions of a Justified Sinner [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Betrayals and redemption, F/M, Grant Ward Redemption, Hellfire Grant Ward, Post-Season/Series 02, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 21:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4640970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capercaillie/pseuds/Capercaillie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you're going through Hell, keep going.</p><p>Grant Ward's in trouble. As if having Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D on his trail wasn't enough, it seems more than one new party has taken an interest in him. The more he digs to find out the truth of what happened to him in Europe, the less he likes the picture that's emerging. </p><p>It's time to take control - of his life and the strange new powers he seems to have acquired. Not only does it seem the only way of staying alive, it could also help bring him back to the one woman he never wanted to leave behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Controlled Burn

**Author's Note:**

> Second part in my Hellfire series, set after Ignition Point. None of this will make a jot of sense if you haven't read that first. It's okay, I'll wait right here. Also worth warning that I play fast and loose with canon, names and anything else that doesn't fit my purposes. Hence the AU tag. That said, I hope you enjoy the ride.
> 
> Dedicated to CaptainSummerDay - who relentlessly bullied me into writing Grant Ward but possibly should have been a bit more careful about what she wished for.

**Part One: Si tu non veneris ad me, ego veniam ad te**

 

 

“…I’ve sent two agents upstairs to check we haven’t missed anything, but I don’t think we’re going to find anything this time. From the looks of things…”

“Agent Morse? Agent Morse, do you copy?”

“…Sorry, Director, I thought I heard something.”

Bobbi studied the empty corridor for another few moments. Turning back, she resumed her steady stride towards the exit and the waiting transport. “As I was saying, this base has turned out to be a bust. All traces of activity several months old. It’s not that they knew we were coming, something else cleared them out first.”

At the other end of the commlink there was the vaguest hint of a sigh, before Coulson spoke again. “Understood. See if there’s any intelligence to indicate why they chose to abandon the base.”

“Copy that. Morse out.” Bobbi tapped the commlink off and then stopped once more. Turning back she looked again down the corridor. No hiding places, no shadows, no sign of anyone.

She could have sworn she’d heard footsteps.

…

Focus. Keep your guard up. Uppercut. Left hook. Right jab.

“Hey, Daisy? Is this a bad time?”

Puffing her hair away from where it stuck to her forehead, Skye stepped back from the bag and looked over to the doorway. She flashed a grin at Lincoln and shook her head, fighting to get her breath back. “Hey, what brings you here?”

Lincoln straightened from where he hovered by the doorway and stepped inside the gym. “Just seeing how you are mostly. It’s been a while,” he glanced behind him. “Uh, am I … are you guys in the middle of something? Because I can come back some other time.”

“Hmmf?” Skye blinked at him, her mouth full of the wrappings she was trying to tug free with a modicum of the grace May and Morse always seemed to display. A cautious tug confirmed that nothing was unravelling anytime time soon, so Skye spat the fabric out. “Other than my 80s montage training regime? Uh, nope.” Finally getting the wrappings loose on one wrist, she quickly pulled them free.

Lincoln edged further into the room, casting a quick glance behind him. “You sure? Because it seems a little crazy busy out there and, well, don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but I didn’t restock the first aid kit before I left this morning so if things get a little intense then I may just take a back seat this one time, you know?”

Skye raised an eyebrow. “Really? Where’s your sense of adventure?” She flashed him a grin and hurriedly finished unwrapped her wrists before quickly dropping the bindings to one side. With a small quiet prayer that May wouldn’t find them before she came back to put them away properly, Skye moved towards the corridor, tugging on Lincoln’s arm as she passed. “C’mon, let’s go see.”

Lincoln rolled his eyes, but the small smile betrayed his reluctance as mostly put on. “I don’t think I have clearance for this. Just so you know.”

Skye snorted. “Please. Did I ever tell you how I ended up a super-secret spy in the first place?”

“Yes, you did,” Lincoln said, falling into their usual routine. “I thought it was a cautionary tale rather than a ‘how to’ guide.”

Skye jabbed at Lincoln’s ribs. “Cute Sparky.” She pulled Lincoln along as they made their way past what was clearly the best part of an away team, all in the process of post-mission inventory and debrief procedures. Up ahead, there was a familiar figure hunched against the far wall in a posture that had more of a whiff of ‘skulking’ about it. Sensing a potential source of information, Skye forged ahead. “Hunter!”

Propped against the wall in a posture clearly striving for casual but falling into disgruntled, Hunter spared Skye and Lincoln the barest of glances. “Alright.”

The guy was all but vibrating from energy. Skye glanced over at Lincoln, but he was bemusedly watching the ex-mercenary and clearly not to blame. “Hey,” she tried. “So … what’s up?”

“What’s up?” Hunter took a deep breath in and then pressed his lips firmly together, obviously thinking better than continuing. He raised a finger to make a point and then shook his head, huffing a breath out. “What’s up?”

“Er, yeah, that was the question,” Skye tried a laid back grin to see if it calmed Hunter down at all.

The man seemed mostly beyond hearing. “Bloody bed rest, they told me. Doctor’s sodding orders. And where is she? Fucking swanning around some Hydra base.” Another deep breath. “And nobody told me! She’s only my bloody wife.”

“Ex-wife,” Skye corrected under her breath. Beside her, Lincoln was looking very much like he regretted ever setting foot on base, but doing his best to hide it behind an open, listening façade.

“Look in there,” Hunter exploded, jabbing a very irate index finger towards Coulson’s office. “Does no one else remember my wife getting shot? I remember it. It’s hard not to, when it happens right in front of you. And there she is, heading off on missions and nobody bloody told me.” It all seemed to get too much, for the man abruptly straightened and spun on his foot. “I’m going for a drink.”

Skye and Lincoln exchanged glances. As one, they turned and looked at the door to Coulson’s office.

There was a moment’s pause. Then the Director’s voice could clearly be heard. “Agent Johnson, can you come in here please.”

Skye and Lincoln exchanged another look before Skye tugged him along as she stepped forward and made her way into the room. “Hey DC, you getting some kind of X-ray vision now?”

Coulson gave her a tired and somewhat tight smile. “No, just very good CCTV.” He gaze moved beyond her to the tall blonde that stood by the desk. “Agent Morse, you are relieved.”

Bobbi nodded before looking across at Skye and Lincoln with a distinctly long-suffering expression on her face. “Is my husband still lurking outside?”

“Ex-husband,” Skye muttered to herself before smiling and shaking her head. “Think your coast is clear.”

With a huff of breath, Bobbi strode out of the room and down the corridor.

Lincoln watched the door bang shut after her exit and then turned to Coulson and Skye, already leaning towards the door. “Uh, I can head off too?”

Coulson’s lips thinned in consideration before he shook his head. “No, we may want your insight on this. You have more knowledge of Inhumans and their abilities than currently exists on our files.”

“Inhumans?” Skye queried. “I wasn’t aware of any encounters.”

“Encounters is perhaps pushing it,” Coulson assured her. “But something unusual has come up and we want to be sure we’re not overlooking anything.”

With a nod, Coulson directed their attention to a screen behind them which promptly lit up with a number of images – some photos, others fragments of films. As Skye stared at the information before her, Coulson rose from his desk and came around to join them. “Following on from London, we’ve been pulling together what information we were able to recover and cross referring it to the mainframe database. We found this. Hydra’s been showing an increased interest in a number of individuals. Freelance mercenaries, non-affiliates and the occasional known Hydra agent.”

Skye tried to match the polite, yet detached look of interest on Lincoln’s face, but despite both her better judgement and training, something deep in her gut clenched as she stared at Ward’s familiar features – displayed as one among the many. There was something about seeing that face, seeing that calm, composed expression on those features that made her hands clench into fists and the muscles along her jaw ache from wanting to tighten. Aware she was no longer taking in either the rest of Coulson’s words or any of the rest of the information, Skye forced herself to take a slow, deep breath in and hold it. Dispelling it carefully, she willed her eyes away from Grant Ward to focus on the rest of the screen. She blinked.

“Hang on, Budapest? I think I saw this on the news. Didn’t they find bodies in the metro? That was Hydra?”

There was a delicate pause as Coulson looked carefully at her, a faint crease of consternation forming between his eyebrows. Skye became aware that Lincoln was also looking at her, his confusion and concern more apparent, and cursed inwardly. Obviously part of the briefing that she’d missed during her contemplation of Ward’s evil cheekbones.

“That’s correct. As I was saying, the European cell we were on the trail of had previously dispatched a team to Budapest, we assume on the trail of this artefact. You saw the results of that mission yourself on the news. But with one obvious exception that I shan’t dwell on here; the team weren’t known Hydra agents.”

“So … they were unknown Hydra agents?” Skye ventured.

“Maybe,” Coulson allowed. “That is what we are currently trying to determine. The identities we currently have listed are Dieter Ackerman, Ross Vance, James Tanner and Jackson Morley.”

The hairs on Skye’s arm began to prickle. She glanced over at Lincoln, who was still studiously examining the photos and then back to Coulson. “So … mercenaries then?”

“It’s certainly a theory, and probably not surprising given their recent losses,” Coulson agreed. “However I’d like you to use your own contacts and skills to check there’s nothing we’re overlooking.”

Skye nodded and moved towards the door, herding Lincoln as she went. “Gotcha. So we’re looking for the Keyser Soze.”

“If there is one,” Coulson cautioned. “This could be a coincidence, but I dislike not knowing.”

Skye summoned up her best Kevin Spacey impersonation. “The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist,” she quipped. “We’ll find him.”

…

Clearly all that training with May had been paying off because Skye managed to make it outside the office, along the corridor and all the way to her quarters before she caved. Then she spun on one heel to confront Lincoln. “So, you want to tell me what got your spider senses tingling in there?”

Lincoln blinked. He reached up a hand to scratch behind his ear and pulled a face. “Er … not so much, actually.”

“Oh come on,” Skye gestured to her arm. “You think I didn’t notice the static electricity in there when Coulson started doing roll call? Something got you riled up. I want to know what.”

Lincoln opened his mouth to reply, then paused and closed it. He glanced around at the corridor, one hand tapping repeatedly on his leg before he looked back at Skye. “Can we take this somewhere else? Like, somewhere away from S.H.I.E.L.D?”

Skye frowned for a moment, then shrugged. “Sure. Guess I could use some fresh air and a change of scene anyway.”

It ended up taking closer to fifty minutes than five, but that was working for a top secret organisation for you.

They relocated to a small coffee shop, huddled around a booth towards the back of the premises. Skye discretely withdrew her phone and tapped a few keys on it before dropping it onto the table between them. “There,” she announced, taking an emphatic sip of her hazelnut latte (almond milk, double shot, double caramel drizzle). “Safe from any electronic eavesdropping and that awful coffee they serve back at headquarters.”

On the other side of the table, Lincoln blinked at her over the top of his black Americano.

Skye leaned forward and narrowed her eyes at Lincoln. “So; no one’s listening in. It’s just you and me. We are away from S.H.I.E.L.D.” At no response from Lincoln, she dropped her voice to a whisper. “This is the point you are supposed to start talking.”

Lincoln huffed a sigh and drank some of his coffee. “It’s not what you think – I didn’t mean to build this into anything. It’s just, I was caught a little by surprise.”

“Something’s still better than nothing,” Skye pointed out, “which is exactly what we’ve got right now.”

Lincoln offered up a small smile. He leaned back in his seat and visibly relaxed his shoulders. “The thing is, you can’t take this back to Coulson.” He carried on talking over Skye’s wordless noise of protest. “I know he’s your boss, but he’s S.H.I.E.L.D. and actively hunting for people like us.” Lincoln paused to sigh again and ran a hand across his face. “I’m not going to hand over people to be added to some list without their consent. Hell, I don’t exactly think I’d have volunteered for that thing either.”

Skye frowned. “But we need to know what we’re dealing with. We’ve got nothing to hide, so there’s no reason to be worried about us having people’s details. It’s no different to, say, medical records.”

Lincoln snorted. “And information stored on people’s medical records never screws them over? Plus considering the fact that until very recently your organisation was to all intents and purposes run and populated by the same people who strapped me to an operating table – and blended in the whole time – you’ll have to forgive me for being a bit reluctant about the whole thing.” Seeing the deepening frown on Skye’s face and huffed out a breath and leaned forward over his coffee. “Look, forget this argument. I just need your word that anything I tell you stays with you alone. No reporting back to your boss or anyone else without my permission first, ok?”

Skye hesitated but then nodded. “Ok, deal.”

“So two of the names in there – Ackerman and Morley. I’ve heard those names before – but I’ve never met them so I don’t know if it’s the same people or just a coincidence.” Lincoln rotated his coffee cup, before picking it up. He paused and then placed it back on the table rather than drink from it as he leaned pulled a face and leaned in. “If I’m right, though, I’ve met their siblings; Naomi Morley and Tomas Ackerman. At Afterlife.”

Skye paused. “So the bodies found in Budapest. They’re Inhumans?”

Lincoln shrugged. “If they were, they never came to Afterlife; never went through Terragenesis. But considering it’s genetic, guess the odds can’t be ignored.”

Skye mulled over this for a moment or two. “Are their siblings still alive? The ones you knew from Afterlife?”

Lincoln stared at Skye. “Um, I don’t want to rake up painful memories but they’re not going to want to talk to S.H.I.E.L.D. There’s still a bit of tension there.”

“But Hydra could be after them,” Skye objected. “Did you not notice the growing trail of bodies we’re finding? What if they were all Inhumans?”

“What if they’re not?” Lincoln countered. “What if it’s just some coincidence? We’re painting targets on our back as soon as we give up our identities to S.H.I.E.L.D.” He looked away and then back at Skye. “Look, let me talk to some people – see if anyone knows anything. If they do … if they do, I’ll set up a meeting. But just with you.”

“That’s a lot of ‘ifs’” Skye noted with a half-grin.

Lincoln returned her smile. “Sorry, best I can do right now.”

Skye pulled herself out from the booth, scooping her cell up as she did so. “Let me know what you find,” she said.

Skye made it all the way back to base and back to the gym before the urge to thump something really, really hard got too much for her. Then, wraps be damned, she clenched her fists and slammed one after the other into the nearest bag.

Focus. Keep your guard up.

…

The cloth hood was unceremoniously yanked from his head and Ward took a moment to blink rapidly as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the light. While he waited for the blur to resolve itself, he quickly took mental stock on his condition. A steady burning ache across his shoulders was probably due as much to the awkward position his arms were twisted into behind him as a result of the handcuffs. Ward flexed his fingers, rotating his wrists within the metal. Oooh manacles. What a charming medieval touch.

Moving on, his side was sore and tender – possibly cracked ribs, definitely bruised. But it didn’t feel like the stitches in his side had torn. Legs were fine as was his head, save for the lingering pain from the punch to the jaw that had immediately preceded the hood going on. So it could be worse.

Ward raised his head to take in his surrounding and almost immediately saw the skull and tentacle logo on the far wall. Years of training prevented any expression from showing on his face, but he couldn’t help but feel he’d tempted fate a little with his initial assessment of his current state.

Directly in front of him, behind a desk lit with a strong spotlight lamp, sat a man in his fifties wearing a dark coloured suit, hands folded neatly. He was flanked on either side by two guards. Giving Ward a few more moments to really reflect and wallow, the man leaned forward with suitably dramatic flair. “Grant Ward,” the man announced, his voice not betraying a hint of accent. “It wasn’t too long ago you seemed to be set on taking over our organisation. Now look at you. Bound and captive. How does it feel?”

Ward did his best to shrug, despite the pull across his shoulders. “Honestly? I’m a little relieved. After all, I’m not in charge of the organisation that needs to send seven men to bring in one non-powered human.”

“We still got you in the end though,” the man pointed out.

Ward stayed silent and the man rocked back slightly in his chair, no doubt mentally chalking up a point under his own tally. Leaning forward once again, the man narrowed his eyes. “I think we have some things to discuss.”

“If you want to conduct an exit interview, we could have done this by phone,” Ward snarked.

“Very funny,” the man replied. “But we are still waiting for an explanation as to what exactly happened in Budapest.”

“How’s that for a coincidence,” Ward responded. “Because I’d kinda like to know as well.”

“The other four members of your team are dead. Are you proposing we attempt to ask them?” The man in the suit leaned forward. “What happened to the object you were sent down to retrieve?”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Ward replied. “As I recall from the mission briefing when I signed up, we weren’t sent down there to retrieve anything. We were sent down there to investigate rumours of S.H.I.E.L.D. activity in that area. So the way I see it; either you were redefining ‘military intelligence’ as a new low, or you had a second objective you kept hidden from me.”

“Where’s the sword? There’s no point in playing games when Ackerman’s head was found severed. We know it was down there, we think it’s highly likely someone used it. Did you take it with you or did someone else get there first?”

“Who were you expecting to find down there?” Ward asked. “Not S.H.I.E.L.D. - you’d be retaliating against whatever faction of theirs is currently pretending to be in charge. The fact you’re questioning me seems to suggest you don’t know who’s responsible and you think I can help you find out.”

“Your actions as of late have cast your loyalties into question, not for the first time,” the man said. “Forgive us for not briefing you beyond your clearance level.”

“I don’t think you really mean that apology,” Ward pointed out.

“How observant of you,” the man replied. “I didn’t.” He unlaced his hands to lay them both flat on the table in front of him. “But we want to know if you have the sword or if it is in the possession of another party. Did you sell it on?”

“No,” Ward replied.

“Is the sword still in your possession?”

Ward shifted in his chair, rocking back slightly. “Do you see a sword on me? Where exactly do you think I’d be hiding it?”

The man leaned forward again, “Mr Ward, I feel obliged to inform you that your current level of disrespect is inappropriate for someone currently restrained and undergoing questioning.”

Ward rocked back again further on his chair, “That’s a fair point. So I guess I feel obliged to inform you that I’m not currently restrained.”

The man opened his mouth to respond, but Ward didn’t give him the chance. Slamming the front legs of the chair back firmly on the ground, Ward rose up from the chair and leapt over the desk in a fluid movement. As he moved, he swung his left arm around, using the now unconnected manacle still chained to his wrist as a bludgeoning weapon to slam into the head of the nearest guard.

The blow connected, knocking the Hydra guard out cold. As he sagged to the ground, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, Ward brought his other arm around to catch the gun slung over his shoulder and fired off three shots – each one neatly taking out the still responding Hydra goons. Ward then let the weapon drop as he snapped his dislocated thumb back into place and turned to face his interrogator, who by now had risen from his seat.

“Well, look at that,” Ward remarked. “You really can’t get the staff these days.”

The man huffed a snort of acknowledgment. His eyes narrowed. Then he struck out with a vicious jab to Ward’s injured side. Ward blocked it, and then swiftly ducked the follow on hook to his head.

Reaching down to grip the chain that hung from the manacle around his wrist Ward swung the metal around again, aiming to take out the man’s kneecaps. As the manacle collided, his interrogator succeeded in delivering a sharp blow again to his injured side.

The sudden searing pain sent Ward to his knees, and he flung out his free arm to stop him from planting face first on the floor. Trying his best to breathe through the fire that felt like it had enveloped his entire side. Ward swung the chain again at the man’s legs before his attacker had the chance to go for a kick.

That blow was enough to take out the man’s kneecap – Ward heard the crunch of cartilage and bone as the man fell to the floor. Breathing deeply to internalise and move beyond the pain running through his side. Ward rose to his feet, bringing the chain and free-winging manacle above him before sending it crashing down onto the back of the man’s exposed neck.

The man sagged, sprawled out on the floor and beyond putting up any remaining fight.

Ward took a moment to regain his breath, as much from the pain in his side as the burst of exertion. When he felt better in control of himself, he briskly searched through the man’s pockets in search of the key to the manacle still attached to one wrist. When he didn’t find it, he then went on to search through each of the fallen guards. With crushing inevitability, the last guard he searched was clearly today’s designated keeper – a small pouch on the hip of the uniform yielded a bunch of ironwork and small electronics. Ward unfastened his wrist and then looked over the rest of the assortment in case there was anything there worth taking with him as payment for his time.

Ward paused over a small piece of electronics in a design he didn’t recognise as either Hydra or S.H.I.E.L.D. While it was possible that either Fitz had created some new update for S.H.I.E.L.D. or Hydra had finally managed to source their own in-house tech expert, Ward didn’t think that was the case. He rolled the small device about in his palm. Some sort of communicator or transmitter was his guess – set to let someone listen in to any intel gathered without having to be present in the room.

There was an almost silent hum from the device, causing Ward to automatically drop it. As it fell, a crackle of electricity fizzed over its surface and by the time it hit the floor it was no more than a blackened and smoking piece of scrap.

Somewhere nearby, Ward heard a door slam closed.

Moving quickly, Ward scooped up the nearest gun and made his way over to the door. There was no sound immediately outside, so he opened it and ducked out into the corridor outside. It was a typical anonymous location – concrete walls suggested a basement level – with the hallway stretching on to either side. To his left, Ward heard the sound of rapidly retreating footsteps and hurried after the sound.

The corridor brought him to a flight of stairs which in turn led up to ground level. Ward emerged from the stairwell in time to see a glimpse of a figure disappearing through a fire exit. Breaking into a sprint, Ward followed, taking the safety off the gun as he did so.

Ward found himself at one end of an alleyway, poorly lit given the hour of the evening which was hardly surprising as they appeared to be in a mostly deserted industrial area. That was enough for Ward to raise his gun and quickly fire off a shot at the moving figure at the far end of the alleyway. The bullet struck home in the figure’s leg, dropping them to the ground without killing them. Ward kept the gun raised as he made his way over to the fallen figure, wary of a retaliatory attack even as the stranger seemed more concerned with clutching at their leg and moaning quietly.

Closer proximity revealed the figure to be a male in his mid-twenties – or possibly earlier and simply the victim of a hard life. He managed to roll onto his back by the time Ward reached him and groaned when he recognised Ward.

“Why do you have to be so fucking difficult?” the man moaned. “All of this would be so much easier if you’d just shut up and done what you were told.”

Ward shrugged. “Following orders hasn’t exactly proven to be a rewarding course of action for me. Who are you working for?”

“He’s going to be so pissed,” the man muttered. “You should have just told them where to find the sword.”

“Seriously? Why the interest in that thing?” Ward exclaimed. “It’s a lump of metal.”

The man huffed out a wet laugh and shook his head. “Not just metal. It’s the hilt that’s important. But none of that’s going to matter if you were stupid enough to touch it.”

Ward didn’t let any expression show on his face. “Who are you working for?” he asked again.

The man clutched tighter at his leg and glared at Ward. “He’s going to know. He’s going to find out.”

Ward sighed. “Yes, fine. Look, I get how the secret organisation within a secret organisation thing works. But can we skip the mysterious threats and statements? I want a name.”

“Watch the shadows,” the man hissed. He made a distinctive biting movement before sagging backwards. Ward lunged forwards, but the poison capsule had done its work well.

Ward looked down at the dead body at his feet and fought the urge to kick it in frustration. Great. Exactly what this mess needed. A new player.

…

If she was being completely, 100%, honest with herself, Skye would probably admit that if she’d been asked where a super secret group of Inhumans would meet for a super secret super powered powwow, it probably wouldn’t have been the back room of a laundromat in Brooklyn. As they’d made their way past the empty rows of washers and dryers, past the old man playing a game of solitaire and seemingly halfway to nodding off entirely, she’d raised an eyebrow at Lincoln. “Just so you know,” she muttered to him. “I’ve been to bars that put more of an effort into a hidden location.”

Lincoln smiled at her good naturedly as he tapped away at a keypad next to the door and then beckoned her through. “I don’t think those bars were really trying to stay secret,” he commented. “Anyway we’ve taken precautions.”

“Let me guess, for a clean getaway?” Skye shot back.

Lincoln laughed as Skye followed behind him. If she’d been expecting at least an attempt at a sense of mystery and intrigue, she would have been disappointed. Of all the things she expected to be walking into, what felt to her eyes like a solid wall of spotlights hadn’t made the list.

It was like someone had set up a row of floodlights directly in front of her. Squinting and blinking, Skye raised a hand to try and shield her eyes from the glare.

“Hold it right there. Don’t move.”

“What is this?” Skye exclaimed. The need to preserve at least a measure of her vision, meant she had to close her eyes. It didn’t help as much as she’d hoped.

“Safety check. For both you and us.” The same voice from before. Mid-tone, female and a hint of an accent.

“What? _How_?”

“Here. Catch.”

There was a suggestion of movement more felt and heard than seen and something bounced off her shoulder. Skye automatically scrabbled to grab it and found herself holding a pair of blacked out safety goggles. She slid them onto her face almost immediately. The light was still far too intense to be even close to comfortable, and she could make out little more than a blurred figure to one side that she assumed was Lincoln and another shapeless blur in front of her, but the pain receded considerably.

“So, is this like a hidden identities thing?” Skye asked. “Because, we could have gone with the usual darkened rooms and codenames thing. Whoever’s paying your utilities bill might want to consider that.”

“When you’ve lost two thirds of your network in the space of a week, you can offer advice. Until then, be assured, this is necessary. For your sake as much as ours.”

“If Hydra are taking out your network, then we can help,” Skye began, but was cut off by a dismissive snort.

“Hydra? They’re a spent force and predictable enough to evade. They’re so fractured these days that they’d struggle to get enough people together for a game of basketball without creating yet another splinter faction. They spent too long inside S.H.I.E.L.D. – I don’t think they’ve got any idea how to function on their own these days other than as a pale reflection of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“So not Hydra then,” Skye muttered. “Got it. You are aware that they seem to be taking an interest in Inhumans again?”

“There’s a lot of people taking an interest in Inhumans,” the lady informed her. “S.H.I.E.L.D. being the main one. As if we didn’t have enough on our hands keeping away from Hydra, they had to pass on their habits.”

Skye bristled at that, but chose to stay silent.

“We thought it was S.H.I.E.L.D. at first, or an offshoot of it,” the lady informed her. “After all, things didn’t really start to happen until after Jiaying’s death. It took us a while to notice. Too many splinter factions and lone agents running around with their own, slightly different, agendas. But the pattern started to build.

“We lost Chen first. A telepath, but not a strong one. Could only speak mentally with those he knows. Over the course of a weekend, he experienced being hunted down again and again and again. Powered individuals with enhanced strength, enhanced speed, the ability to manipulate energy … each and every one of them, tracked down and taken. He sent a message of warning out to the rest of us, but we couldn’t reach him in time.

“Next it was Rhys, based in London. Technopath. He’d been tracking the activities of Hydra and other organisations through the networks. He was the one who alerted us to the other disappearances, the ones that each group were assuming to be the work of the other, the ones that suggested that someone new had entered the frame.”

“Other disappearances?” Skye echoed. “So not just Inhumans?”

“No, though they continue to be a major focus. But there’s also been historians, archaeologists, professors … all starting from when S.H.I.E.L.D’s database went online. We think someone must have found something in those archives, something going back to wartime Europe. And ever since then there’s been rumours. Experiments, people going missing, that kind of thing. So whoever this group are, they’re looking for something. Something specific.”

“What?” Skye asked.

A dry laugh. “If we knew that, I doubt our days would number very highly. My guess is that they think they’ve found it though. We used to hear about the historians, now it’s the mercenaries, the ex-soldiers. So I imagine whatever it is, it’s something old and something powerful. Something dangerous in the wrong hands – or maybe something that can only be used by certain people.”

“Inhumans?” Skye suggested.

“Possibly latents. We checked the names Lincoln provided us. None of them were ever at Afterlife or had given us any indication that they would be suitable for terragenesis.”

“So, um, why the floodlights?” Skye asked.

“Chen. His report back to us is the closest we have to any information on what is tracking us down. It came through late – reading between the lines, he’d already experienced a good deal of his contacts’ disappearances and knew that they were no longer capable of responding to him. So his mental state wasn’t the best and some of the statements were a little … garbled.

“He was very insistent on one point. We need to watch the shadows – literally watch the shadows. That’s the only warning you get.”

“Watch the shadows for what?” Skye pressed.

“No idea. But we’re not taking any chances. He gave us a name too. Tenebrae; though whether that’s a group, an individual or a codeword is anyone’s guess. It’s all we have to go on though.”

There was a pause and then a blurry figure appeared in front of Skye. “We’re done here. You can go now.”

“Wait,” Skye protested. “Shouldn’t we work together on this?”

“We don’t have the warmest memories of working with S.H.I.E.L.D,” the woman replied drily. “And furthermore, we have no desire to be logged and registered like criminals or a weapons inventory. You’re on your own.”

Skye opened her mouth to protest, but Lincoln was already nudging her away. “Thanks for your time,” he said politely. “I hope we haven’t put you in any danger by agreeing to meet with us.”

“The way I see it, letting you take on this Tenebrae – who or whatever it may be – just takes the focus off of us.”

Skye found her way back through the door and almost immediately stumbled when her vision was unable to see anything in the main room of the laundromat. Lincoln helped her remove her goggles while she blinked rapidly as watched as his face resolved back into focus. “A bar would have been more fun,” she told him solemnly.

“But possibly less useful,” Lincoln pointed out.

Skye shrugged and sighed. “If only I knew how to use the info. I’m not quite sure how it all fits.”

“Well you have two locations as I see it,” Lincoln mused. “Chen was based in Hong Kong, which is where the disappearances started. Or there’s Europe, which seems to be where the endgame is going to be set.”

“Hong Kong,” Skye decided. “If we’re going up against someone new, we need to find out more about them. So I guess that means Hong Kong.”

 


End file.
